For centuries, the gargoyles were nothing but the petrified echo of devotion, stone sentinels placed in the oldest pantheons to watch and protect, without life or thoughts of their own. They were silent, motionless guards on the highest spires of the temples of the gods. His only purpose was vigil, a duty etched in his essence of rock and forgotten magic.
But the war between the deities began, a clash that shook the cosmos, tearing up the realms. The magic that kept order dissolved into pure chaos. The temple of
Effigy collapsed, and the stone sentry fell thousands of feet into an endless void, his body crumbling by the collapse of reality. But it was not an end. The primordial energies of chaos, wild and unpredictable, clung to every fragment of his body, imbuing it with a new and terrible life.
Upon awakening,
Effigy did not remember the gods he had guarded, nor that faith which one day had inspired in the temple which now was nothing but dust. He had only one instinct, a single guideline carved in stone since he existed: to protect. His body, now alive and fractured, had become a reflection of the world around him, an effigy of the very destruction he had witnessed.
Now,
Effigy roams the battlefield of the gods, driven by a mission that is no longer stationary. He is a guardian of an already broken past, a vigilante who has found his voice in a war he did not start. He does not fight for a god or for the glory of a pantheon, but because he no longer has a place to protect.
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